meditation on my thankings for

Kristen: our friendship and how we float. Together, the same and different. For that matter, love. Family: I have chosen, who've chosen me, and then these whom I was given to by birth. Some friends, who I say are also family. Few friends. Good friends. Strangers who smile or wave or nod, like friends. I am surrounded on every side by the challenges love brings; all of it blesses me and molds me for more. Pain and mourning. Struggles and failures. And mildew, because it works in invisible ways. Gravity, and dreams. Sleep, and sometimes noises in my head. This house and this place I live and work in. The terrors of distance. Desks. Chairs. Pencils. Books. Language. Color. The sun in Tucson and how the sun in Tucson is. The element of surprise. Poetry. Rain. Questions and answers. Questions more than answers; answers end up, feeling somewhat arbitrary when turning back to look at their corresponding question. The beauty of the question. Ecclesiastes. Hammers. Birds that build. Erasmus. The temperature of sickness. Blood. Electricity. French. French in unexpected places. Unexpected places. A woman's body. Every crooked strata. How fingers and hands go with others' bodies. Touch; and feeling. Orgasms. Eagles. Good endings. For being able to realize, just at this moment, that this moment is too short, and there isn't enough page or internet or computer or space for an accumulation of binary symbols to list what I am really thankful for, and that ultimately, this is the challenge. In art. Also. Art.